I used to keep a journal, until I felt like it contributed to my demise.
I threw it all away: my thoughts, my pain, my words.
Awhile ago, a friend gave me a journal as a birthday gift, in hopes that I use it. I still have not. I do not feel that this is a good time in my life to write in such a special gift.
I cannot bear the thought of writing my mixed feelings in the beautiful book she gave me, yet I heed her words when she tells me that I should open up regarding my feelings.
So here I am again. As a favor to her, I’m opening myself up to you.